Attic Cigars
© Lannie Dietle 2026
We worked for old man Wolf
on the weekends, we did.
He paid us by the hour,
we neighborhood kids.
He drove in from Pittsburgh
Saturday mornings in his car.
We'd show up there at nine
to work on his pony farm.
We worked real hard all day,
and we listened to him swear.
He sounded like a son-a-bitch,
but he was just a Teddy Bear.
He smoked them Swisher Sweets
as he huffed and he puffed.
We cherished that old man,
despite his edges bein' rough.
Wolf forgot to take his cigars
on a cloudy, rainy day.
He paid us our hard-earned money,
and then he drove right on away.
We knew they would go to ruin
if they were left out by and by,
so we rescued all them cigars,
and then we gave them a little try.
They were just as smooth as could be,
and all growed up is how we felt.
We loved how them cigars tasted,
and we loved how they smelled.
We loved how they made us feel,
and we were proud of how we looked,
and before we even knew it,
them darn cigars had us hooked.
Every time we tried to quit
we had that familiar yearning ache.
We had to have more of them cigars,
there weren't no way we could wait.
The closest store with cigars
was just too many miles away.
What's a poor kid supposed to do
if he cain't get there right away?
With an anxious empty ache
I thought and I thought...
I needed cigars really bad,
but there was none to be bought.
Now, it's hard to need a smoke
when you just ain't got no car,
and that's when I remembered
my Daddy's old attic cigars.
Now my Daddy never smoked,
so he never became an addict.
All the cigars he was ever given,
he just stuck them in the attic.
They was gifts from new fathers.
They was gifts from new husbands.
They were just as old as could be,
and there must of been dozens.
They hadn't seen a bit of humidity
in a decade, or maybe more,
but a kid does what he has to
when he cain't get to a store.
Oh, it's hard to be addicted
when a kid ain't got no car,
and that's why we had to smoke
them old attic cigars.
They were just as dry as could be
and they tasted like burnt oak,
but a kid does what he has to do
when he's cravin' cigar smoke.
Oh, it's hard to be addicted
when a kid ain't got no car,
and that's why we had to smoke
them old attic cigars.
Oh, what's a poor kid supposed to do
when he cain't get no cigars?
Although the song is accurate in its broad outlines, this is a history website, so I want to note a few places where artistic license was used:
L. Dietle
